


Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

by lovelornwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Full Moon, M/M, Werewolves, pushy Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 13:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15220601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelornwolf/pseuds/lovelornwolf
Summary: Stiles is regretting taking an extra shift at Finstock's Corner Grocery on the night of the full moon when Derek Hale stumbles in, three hours early for his shift and, apparently, drunk off his ass.





	Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> If you are worried about the dubious consent tag, take a look at the notes at the end of the fic for more information.

The store was empty, silent except for the hypnotic whine of the deli case and the hum of the refrigerator unit. Stiles yawned. It was four in the afternoon. The only customer so far had been Mrs. Wei, who'd hobbled in to grab her weekly pound of coffee and demand her daily pack of cigarettes.

“Full moon tonight,” she’d said. “Take care of yourself.” She’d plunked exact change down on the counter and hurried away.

Twenty minutes of nothing later, Stiles’s head started nodding and his eyes tried to droop closed.

Mr. Finstock was out of town during store hours for the first time in two years, and Stiles had agreed to take an extra shift after school. More money couldn't hurt . . . if he didn't die of boredom before Derek came to relieve him at seven.

Stiles daydreamed a little about Derek showing up for his shift, for some reason wearing lacrosse gear, taking off his helmet in the front doorway, the stripes of eyeblack standing out against his cheeks as he grinned. Perfect white teeth, startling hazel eyes.

_What's up, man?_ Derek asked, like he always did.

_Nothing much,_ Stiles said, like _he_ always did.

_Wanna catch a movie later?_ Derek said out of the blue. (He looked like it was an offhand question, but of course he'd been planning this for days.)

In this daydream Stiles was pretty smooth himself, so he shrugged and said, _I guess. What's playing?_

_That Godzilla remake. You see the trailer?_

_Yeah. Looks intense._ Stiles pretended to consider. _Okay. Sure. I'll go. What time?_

_Pick you up at ten._

_See you then._

Derek gave him a cool salute and then sauntered out the door. Which didn't make sense because his shift was just starting, but it was an issue of timing—the impact of the moment _depended_ on Derek walking away like he didn't have a care in the world.

Stiles sighed. Derek was friendly, but he was not interested in asking Loser Stiles out to the movies. As friends or—or anything else. Derek had a girlfriend he could take to the movies, a cheerleader named Kate who had blond hair and a brilliant smile and who was always touching Derek whenever they were together. On the shoulder. On the arm. Not to mention the kissing. Stiles felt bad for hating her, she seemed okay, but that was the way it was.

Nothing continued to happen. The pickles swam lonesome in their jar, the sandwiches slumped in their cocoons of plastic film, unnoticed, unwanted. A fire engine siren sounded in the distance, then died away.

Derek came into the store again. This time he was in his regular jeans and shirt, but the shirt was unbuttoned enough to show his undershirt and hint at his pectorals.

_Stiles,_ Derek said. He was too cool to smile, but he gave Stiles the head-jerk of acknowledgement that the lacrosse players always gave each other.

_Derek,_ Stiles said. He gave Derek the head-jerk back, and he looked cool and totally smooth.

Derek gestured. _Gotta tell you something, man,_ he said.

_Yeah?_ Stiles leaned forward—Derek’s hand caught his shoulder—pulled their heads together—Derek’s lips brushed his cheek, breath warm on his ear—

_I can't get you out of my head,_ Derek said. _I think I'm obsessed._

He took Stiles’s hand and—

At that moment the front door chimed. It was Derek, three hours early for his shift, dressed in a stained T-shirt and pajama bottoms.

“Derek!” Stiles said.

Derek didn't even glance at him, just stumbled past the counter, made it three steps up the snack aisle and fell hard against a shelf full of crackers, sending half the Cheez-Its to the floor.

“Whoa, you okay?”

Derek didn't seem to hear. He leaned against the shelves, panting.

“You drunk, man?”

Still nothing.

“Don't worry about the crackers,” Stiles said. “We can take care of them later, but man, you don't look so good.”

Derek turned finally. His eyes fixed on Stiles. “Oh. Hey.” His voice was rough and his face was greasy with sweat. “What's up, man?” He was slurring his words slightly, like a kid who just got braces.

“Not…much,” Stiles said. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, it's okay.” He smiled, his All-American grin a bit lopsided. His white, white teeth were longer and sharper than Stiles remembered. “I didn't forget. I knew I was supposed to come here, and I did.” He looked around the store uncertainly.

“You're a little early,” Stiles said, but Derek didn't seem to hear.

“Hungry,” Derek muttered.

“Help yourself to a sandwich, you know the drill,” Stiles said, pointing at the deli case.

“‘First one's on the house,’” Derek said in a slow sing-song. “‘Second one comes . . .’” He trailed off.

“‘Comes out of your pay,’ right? Finstock says that to you, too? That's…pretty funny.”

Derek bent close to a shelf, gave a blister pack of beef jerky a long sniff. Wrinkled up his nose.

“Derek?”

Derek looked up. “Oh. It's you.” He smiled again.

“Still me, Derek.”

“You know, you're looking good. You always look good, but today you look…real good.”

Derek stepped closer. There was a sharp scent in the air, like blood and musk.

“Can I—?” Derek said.

“What?”

“Can I taste you?”

Stiles had imagined this a thousand different ways, the moment when Derek would turn away from his girlfriend and really see Stiles for the first time, but somehow he'd never pictured it happening in the snack aisle of the corner store. Derek in a ratty old T-shirt and pajama bottoms. Cheez-It boxes around their feet. He hadn't pictured Derek Hale, drunk at 4:15pm, asking, “Can I taste you?”

Derek stepped closer, put his hand on Stiles’s arm. They were almost chest to chest. “So? Can I?”

“You're drunk, Derek,” Stiles said. “You're drunk or high or some other kind of shit-faced _._ ”

“Not drunk,”Derek protested. “I remembered to come in today, didn't I? And I'm not biting. Even though I'm hungry, and you look so good.”

“It's not a good time,” Stiles said. “People will see.”

“People?” Derek looked around. Swayed again. “There's just us.”

Stiles could lock the front door. Turn the sign to “CLOSED.” Maybe write a note: “Be Back Soon”? Drag Derek to the stockroom, trip him onto the stack of broken-down boxes, pull down his pants, swallow his cock.

“I can’t,” he said.

“You look so good,” Derek said. He leaned in, hand at the nape of Stiles’s neck. Sniffed, rubbed his lips roughly on Stiles’s throat. Growled, “Smell good, too.”

The phone rang at that moment. Stiles pulled away from Derek to answer it.

“Finstock’s Corner Grocery,” Stiles said.

A woman was on the other end. “Hello, I'm looking for Derek. Did he show up over there?”

“Uh, who may I say is calling?”

“His mother.”

“Oh. Yeah, he's right here. One second.” Stiles put his hand over the receiver. “Derek! It's your mom.”

Derek came over, but he seemed more interested in sniffing Stiles’s neck than in the telephone.

Stiles gave up and put the receiver back to his ear. “Mrs. Hale? He's…not able to come to the phone right now.”

“I see,” she said. “I’ll send someone right over.”

“Now you're gonna get it,” Stiles said. He pushed Derek away. “We have to get you sobered up before your parents arrive. Do you want some coffee?”

“No,” Derek said. “I want _you_.”

“Well, that is definitely not happening if your parents are on their way.”

Derek pouted.

“Fine,” Stiles said. “Later, okay? When your parents are done with you, if you aren't grounded. _Later.”_ He pushed Derek’s face away from his neck again. “Jesus, you're acting like a vampire.”

Derek frowned. “Not a vampire. A _werewolf.”_

“A werewolf, huh? Yeah, I can see that.” Stiles started. “Come to think of it, Mrs. Wei did say it was the full moon.”

The door chimed again. This time it was Derek’s older sister, Laura.

“Derek!” she said. “What—what are you doing?”

What Derek was doing right at that second was licking Stiles’s neck.

“Hey, Laura,” Stiles said. He was glad that the counter covered up his erection.

Laura snorted. “You should see your face,” she said.

“I told him no,” Stiles said. “I even tried to hold him off. But he's kind of strong and _really_ single-minded right now.”

“I can see that,” Laura said. “Derek!” she barked. She snapped her fingers in Derek's ear.

Derek started and whined, but he stopped licking.

“You are coming with me,” she said firmly.

“Don’t wanna,” Derek said.

Laura took his ear between her fingers and pinched. “Come on,” she said. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” She dragged him towards the door.

“Bye, Derek,” Stiles said. “Wait, uh, is he going to be okay to take his shift tonight?”

“Doesn't look like it,” Laura said. “Apologize to Finstock for him, will you?.”

Derek just snarled.

“Well, that's just great,” Stiles said once the door closed behind them. “I guess I'm working the evening shift, too.”

Much later, when Stiles finally stumbled home after closing the store at ten, he opened his bedroom door and found the window open and Derek passed out on his bed. This time he was in jeans and a maroon Henley.

“What is going on,” Stiles said.

Derek stirred. “Hey,” he said.

“Uh, hey.”

“You said ‘later’,” Derek said.

“‘Later’? Oh, right. When you were trying to put the moves on me in the middle of the store.”

“You smell so good. I can't help it.” He glanced at the window. “Plus it's the full moon tonight.”

“And that's important because…?”

“Because werewolf,” Derek said.

Stiles noticed that his teeth were still extra large, and that each of Derek’s fingers now ended in a pointed claw.

“You didn't have those before,” Stiles said.

“The pull of the moon is stronger now,” Derek said.

“But you're making more sense.”

“My mom…helped me calm down.”

Stiles could see the full moon through the window now. Its light fell on Derek, and Derek’s face changed. His eyebrows receded even as his brow ridge thickened. Hair grew along his cheeks and his eyes flashed blue.

“Are you going to…kill me?” Stiles asked.

Derek stood. “No,” he said. “I’m going to kiss you.” He looked at Stiles. "Is that all right? I'm sorry about…before.”

“Yeah, that’s, uh, sure. Kissing. Yes.”

Derek pressed Stiles up against the door, snuffling at his neck. Stiles’s heart was pounding, and he was astonishingly, painfully hard.

“Good,” Derek said, running a hand over Stiles’s crotch. “I want you to come for me.”

“Wait—” Stiles said.

“What?”

“Maybe the bed?”

“Yeah,” Derek said. He picked Stiles up bodily and tossed him onto the mattress.

“Oof,” said Stiles.

Derek stretched himself out next to Stiles and ran his claws down Stiles’s neck. Stiles shivered. Derek leaned forward and kissed him. Stiles kissed back, opening his mouth.

“Careful,” Derek said, pulling back. “My teeth are sharp.” He leaned forward again, this time to suck on the side of Stiles’s neck.

“You like my neck, don't you,” Stiles said.

“I’m addicted to your neck,” said Derek. “Every time I see you I want to bury my face in it.”

“…and what about Kate?”

“Kate is history,” Derek said. “She couldn’t handle…this.” He held up his claws.

“She freaked out?” Stiles asked.

“You could say that. Can we stop talking about her?” Derek spread his hand over Stiles’s erection. “I would blow you, but, uh, _teeth_ ,” he said.

“Oh,” Stiles said, disappointed. “That’s okay, I can—”

Derek undid Stiles’s belt and unfastened the button of his jeans. “I can still take care of you in other ways,” he said.

He skinned Stiles’s jeans down along with his underwear. Stiles’s cock sprang up immediately, slapping him on his belly. Then Derek pulled down his own pants. He was uncut and his cock was already dripping precum.

“Lube?” said Derek.

“Uh. Top drawer.”

Derek got out the tube of KY and slathered both their cocks with it. He positioned himself between Stiles’s legs and pressed their cocks together, holding them captured in one hand, claws held carefully out of the way.

“Hnngg,” said Stiles.

Derek begain to thrust against Stiles, a slow but insistent rhythm that quickly pushed Stiles towards the edge. He was panting and whining, writhing and thrusting up against Derek.

“That’s right,” Derek said. “That’s good. You’re so good.”

“Derek,” gasped Stiles. “ _Derek_.”

“ _Come for me_ ,” Derek commanded.

Stiles arched his back and came all over his belly, crying out as the pleasure flooded him, crested over him and gradually ebbed away.

Derek thrust a couple more times and then came with a groan, his come mixing with Stiles’s. He toppled over and collapsed next to Stiles on the bed

“So was this a werewolf thing?” Stiles asked.

“Partly,” Derek said. “But mostly I've had a crush on you for…well. For a while.”

“Why didn't you ever say anything? We could have been doing this instead of me having to be content with fantasizing about it.”

“You've fantasized about this?” Derek asked.

“Oh yeah,” Stiles said.

“And? How did this compare?”

“ _Way_ better than a fantasy, dude.”

“Good,” Derek said.

“Wait,” Stiles said, “Do your parents know you're here?”

“They probably have a pretty good idea,” Derek said.

“Are they going to be okay with this?”

Derek was silent for a moment. “If they aren't at first, they’ll come around once they realize how serious I am.”

“So this is serious, then? Are we together?”

“We should probably go out at least once before we decide that,” Derek said.

“Okay,” Stiles said. “What about that Godzilla remake? I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven.”

“It's a date,” Derek said.

**Author's Note:**

> Dubious consent:  
> Under the influence of the full moon, Derek actively sniffs and licks Stiles's neck after Stiles has told him no.


End file.
